


Inelegant Match

by Hazel_Athena



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:08:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27581170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel_Athena/pseuds/Hazel_Athena
Summary: “I’m sorry,” says the striking man who’s just stepped into the room. “I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.”
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 538





	Inelegant Match

Nicky’s hiding and he’s not proud of it.

The library - his favorite place in the manor - is dark, the single candle Nicky’s brought with him the only source of light in the entire room. It stutters briefly as he shifts around in the alcove he’s tucked himself into, causing strange shadows to dance along the wall as the light flickers.

It’s not fair, he thinks forlornly. He’d known the moment he’d been recalled from the seminary that something like this was bound to be coming, but he’d been so close. If they’d just waited one month longer he’d have taken his vows and been free of his father’s scheming forever.

So close, and yet so far. A month, yes, that was going to make all the difference. If he’d made it that far that would have been the end of it. Now, instead, he’s to be packed off to a far worse fate, essentially sold to a filthy rich nobleman like a beast in the market.

He hadn’t been particularly set on the seminary, at least not as much as some. Rather he’d seen it as a way out that he could live with, a life where he’d hopefully find at least some semblance of peace, even if it wasn’t exactly what he wanted. 

Now, however, all that is gone and here he stands, betrothed to a man with more money than brains in a last ditch attempt to save his family from destitution. 

“He wanted a man, Nicolo,” he hears his mother’s voice echoing in his ears, her words distressed in the face of Nicky’s pleas to not do this, to not let this happen. “You’re our only son of marrying age and we’re hardly in a position to refuse.”

“Especially not for that much money,” his father had added, completely failing to miss the point that the bulk of their family’s debt stemmed directly from his love of the card table. “Duke Keane has enough wealth to erase any ... issues ... that may have arisen, and he’s promised us substantial dowries for all three of your siblings.”

“Meaning their own prospects will greatly improve,” his mother had said, sounding relieved. “That’s one less thing we’ll have to worry about.”

“But I don’t know him,” Nicky had protested. “I’ve never even met the man.”

“Actually, you have,” his mother had noted. She’d obviously been trying to help him see the bright side of things, even if they’d both known such an attempt was a doomed endeavour. “He remembered you from the last ball you attended prior to leaving. Apparently you made quite an impression.”

Nicky can’t even imagine what that means. He’s spent the bulk of his society years studiously avoiding any kind of ‘suitable interactions’, in his parents words, and rarely ever appeared at such public spectacles. He’s only been to maybe half a dozen balls in his life.

“If I did meet him it was for no more than a moment,” Nicky had tried arguing, “seeing as I remember none of it. What does that say about him?”

“Truly, I could care less,” his father had replied, going beyond blunt and crossing into some newfound territory Nicky’s never encountered before. “The details of the contract have been drawn up. You will wed within three months time and that’s the end of it.”

And so it had been. His father had refused to hear anything further from him, and Nicky was summarily escorted out of the study all of ten minutes later after being told he would be formally introduced to his fiancé in the morning. 

He’d retired to his own room shortly thereafter, not wanting to see anyone, but there’d been nothing he could do about the restless energy thrumming through his veins. Unable to sleep, he’d eventually slunk down to the library where he now sits huddled in his favorite reading nook.

Scrubbing tiredly at his eyes, he sinks further down in the cushions, trying to will himself to relax. His is hardly the first arranged marriage to ever take place, and surely some such matches have had honest love develop from them, or at least something that passes for friendship.

Telling himself that just because he’s never encountered such a situation doesn’t mean it’s impossible, Nicky takes several calming breaths before moving to stand. His fiancé is scheduled to arrive early tomorrow for breakfast, and it won’t do to be exhausted during their first real meeting.

Candle in hand, he heads for the library exit, and then back towards his own room, determined to make the best of a bad situation.

*****

Duke Keane is handsome enough, Nicky supposes. He’s tall, with close cropped dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. His clothes are fashionable and obviously tailor made to fit him - indicating he cares about his appearance - and he moves gracefully, like a big jungle cat.

A big jungle cat and with all that entails, Nicky thinks when Keane steps forward to take his hand. There’s something in his expression that makes Nicky feel like prey before a predator, and it’s all he can do not to snatch his hand away at the touch.

“Nicolo,” Keane says. His voice is smooth, but once again there’s an aspect to it that Nicky immediately dislikes. “How lovely to see you again.”

Nicky pastes a weak smile on his face, still waiting for Keane to let him go. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir. Try as I might, I can’t recall ever meeting you.”

Keane, there’s no other word for it, smirks. “Sir,” he repeats, as if he’s testing the word on his tongue. “I think I like that more coming from you than I ever did any of my soldiers. And we haven’t met, not properly, anyway. Some time ago you attended a party at the home of my friend, Duke Merrick. I saw you from afar and was struck by your beauty.”

Nicky feels his blood run cold at the name of Keane’s ‘friend’. Stephen Merrick is a despicable weasel of a man with more money than he knows what to do with but enough vices to at least try and spend it all. Nicky barely knows him, but if he and Keane run in the same circles than this match is even more poorly thought out than he’d feared.

When Nicky says nothing, only manages to dredge up another pale imitation of a smile, Keane finally releases his hand and turns to greet his parents. None of Nicky’s siblings will be joining them this morning, but his mother had wished to be present for this initial meeting. 

Before long, the four of them are seated at the table in the dining room while a number of servants, far more than would normally be present, his parents are clearly trying to make a statement, bustle back and forth with various dishes. 

Keane and his parents make idle chit chat, mostly about wedding preparations, but Nicky finds himself unwilling to join in. He keeps his attention on his food, moving it haphazardly around his plate with his fork, and wishes he were literally anywhere else in the world. 

“Nicolo,” his mother’s voice is strained when it cuts through his reverie, indicating this isn’t the first time she’s said his name. “If we could have your attention, please?”

“I’m sorry,” she adds, turning to Keane while Nicky flushes with embarrassment. “He’s a good and kind boy, but I’m afraid he’s always had his head in the clouds. I don’t know if you have a library in your home, but if you do and you’re ever looking for him that will be the first place to check.”

“There is, but it gets very little use,” Keane replies. “I’ve always preferred more physical pursuits than that of shoving my nose in some silly book.”

Keane’s eyes flick back to Nicky at the word ‘physical’, gaze roaming over his features in a way that makes him feel vaguely ill. “I’m sure Nicolo will come to learn that in time.”

“Speaking of,” he adds before Nicky can quite work up the courage to demand to know what exactly _that_ is supposed to mean, “the other stipulation we spoke of, it’s confirmed?”

“Of course,” Nicky’s father says, while his mother is suddenly very interested in her own meal. “As I promised it would be.”

“Good,” Keane says, the same unpleasant smirk from earlier now back on his face. “Good. I’m glad it won’t be an issue. Now then, about getting him out in polite society more, I was thinking ...”

*****

“I really don’t think this is for me,” Nicky says, aiming for demure but not entirely sure he succeeds in finding it. “It’s - it’s too much. I can’t let you spend this much money.”

Keane barks out a laugh from where he’s lounging on a nearby sofa with a drink in one hand. “Your modesty is appreciated, Nicolo, yet also misplaced. I’m doing this as much more me as for you. No fiancé of mine is going to attend a banquet at the Lord’s palace in anything but the height of fashion.”

“Of course not,” Nicky says faintly. Staring fixedly at the mirror in front of him, he tries to ignore the feeling of the two seamstresses who’re fitting him with the outfit Keane has requested. 

Behind him, Keane shifts, the movement visible in the mirror. “Those trousers,” he says bluntly, “are doing wonders for your ass.”

As has become the norm over the course of the past month, Nicky grits his teeth. He’s quickly gotten used to Keane’s uncouth comments about his looks - indeed, they come so frequently, how could he not? - but that certainly doesn’t mean he cares for them. 

Or for the man himself, for that matter.

Try as he might, Nicky hasn’t been able to get over his initial impression of his fiancé, and it’s only the thought of what would happen if he tried to break out of their arrangement that stops him from running for the hills on a daily basis. He’d never be allowed to leave, he knows, and he has no desire to spend the next two months living under lock and key somewhere in the family manor.

Not that today’s outing is any better, he notes forlornly. Keane has booked them appointments at the most highbrow clothing establishment in the city, wanting to make sure they’re prepared for the Lord’s banquet in three weeks time. 

“I need to properly show you off, Nicolo,” he’d remarked in the carriage ride over. One of his hands had also been encroaching in Nicky’s personal space as he spoke. Altogether it was a thoroughly unpleasant experience. 

And a thoroughly unpleasant experience that has only continued at that. Even ignoring the fact that his family hasn’t had the money for such expenses in years, Nicky’s never cared much for fashion, choosing instead to clothe himself in simple tunics with little to no embroidery.

“Are you sure...,” Nicky starts, determined to give it one last try to save himself from this indignity. The piece he currently finds himself in is as far from his own tastes as it’s possible to get, and the thought of going out in it where every member of the nobility will see makes his skin crawl.

Keane cuts him off with a growl before he can finish. “I don’t like to be contradicted, Nicolo. The discussion is over.”

Nicky ducks his head in a show of acquiescence, but inside he’s seething. Among the increasingly long list of things he hates about his intended, right at the top sits his firm belief that Nicky is to obey him in all things. So far Nicky’s managed not to snap back at him, but he suspects it’s only a matter of time before his temper gets the better of him. 

Drawing in a deep breath, Nicky begins counting slowly to ten in his head. He only gets as far as seven, though, when he’s startled by an unfamiliar touch on his thigh. 

Jerking around, he finds that the seamstresses have left the room, and Keane in turn has vacated his spot on the sofa. Now standing almost right behind Nicky, he glances in the mirror, curling his hand over Nicky’s hip with a proprietary air.

“Look at you,” he practically purrs, grip tightening when Nicky none to subtly tries to shift away. “The whole court is going to want a piece of you when you show up at that banquet.”

“How unfortunate for the court that I’m spoken for then,” Nicky grunts. He has a very strong urge to physically shove Keane away from him, but one of the seamstresses chooses this exact moment to reappear, thereby doing the job for him.

The woman holds up a swath of fabric, coloured a deep burgundy that Nicky would normally never be caught dead in, and Keane steps back to let her work. His gaze, always so predatory, stays locked on Nicky, still visible in the mirror.

Since the suit is now the lesser of two evils, Nicky doesn’t protest when she pulls out yet another measuring tape. 

*****

The night of the Lord’s banquet arrives far too quickly, and Keane arranges to escort Nicky, his parents, and his siblings in his personal carriage. He claims he’s just doing his duty when Nicky’s parents profess their thanks, but it’s obvious it’s simply another excuse for him to show off the way he so loves to do.

A herald does formal introductions upon their entrance, and it’s no time at all before Nicky’s mother is whisking the others away, no doubt in search of potential suitors. His father remains a little longer, but quickly learns there’s a games room set up not far away and then he too is abandoning Nicky to Keane’s company.

“Come on,” Keane says once they’re alone. “I’m told Merrick’s already here, and I promised him I’d introduce the two of you tonight. I expect I know where to find him.”

Not bothering to ask if Nicky has any interest in this pursuit, he loops their arms together and proceeds to forcibly tow Nicky across the room where, indeed, Duke Stephen Merrick is holding court. A number of noblemen and women surround him, including Dr. Meta Kozak, recently returned from abroad, and Sir James Copley, still in mourning clothes following the sudden passing of his wife a year ago.

Nicky opens his mouth to greet Copley first, wanting to once again express his condolences for the man’s loss, but as per usual Keane is already speaking over him.

“Merrick,” he says loudly, “I’d like you to meet Nicolo di Genova, my fiancé.”

Nicky’s actually met Stephen Merrick maybe three times before, and not once has he ever enjoyed the occasion. He keeps his face impassive as Merrick turns his beady little eyes on him, but it’s a near thing to keep from scowling.

“Duke Merrick,” he says flatly. “How lovely to see you again.”

“Indeed,” Merrick says, his voice as bright Nicky’s is not. He jerks his chin at Keane. “My compliments to your tailor, old friend. I had no idea what a lovely figure Nicolo was hiding under those plain suits he usually wears.”

Copley has the grace to look ashamed at this comment, but a number of others, Kozak among them, openly chuckle in response. 

“Tell me about it,” Keane retorts, seemingly oblivious to Nicky’s growing irritation. “Although, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. You know full well that trends tend to be set by those in charge, and the current Lord’s preferences are far too simple for my tastes.”

“Oh mine as well,” Merrick agrees. “Same goes for his sense of timing. Would you believe dear old Yusuf hasn’t even made an appearance yet tonight?” He makes a scoffing sound in the back of his throat. “Disgraceful.”

“I did hear he got caught up in a matter of policy,” Copley says dryly, but his voice of reason is quickly dismissed by those around him. 

“Regardless,” Merrick says, flapping a hand. “We should be celebrating, though! Keane, I understand the wedding is little more than a month away. You must tell me how you managed to land your intended. The last I heard he was about to take his vows for the church.”

Keane laughs. “Luckily his parents and I were able to come to an agreement before that happened. I promise you no vows were broken, and, even better, this way I can be certain my dear fiancé’s purity remains intact.”

Nicky visibly stiffens at this. It’s one thing for Keane to make inappropriate remarks when it’s just the two of them, but in a crowded room full of people, and about Nicky’s inexperience in the bedroom of all things, is entirely another.

He starts to pull his arm from Keane’s grasp, fully intending to nip this conversation in the bud when he’s saved by the herald announcing the arrival of the Lord and his retinue. 

The crowd around them quickly disperses in favour of trying to get a glimpse of the Lord, and Nicky wastes no time in fully yanking free from Keane’s grasp.

“Must you be so crass?” He demands, stepping back to put some distance between them. “I really don’t care for the way you speak about me at times.”

“And I really don’t care about what you think,” Keane replies. His voice is calm, but his posture is rigid and his eyes narrow as he steps right back into Nicky’s personal space. “Exactly what do you believe drew me to you in the first place?”

“It was your looks,” he says, not giving Nicky a chance to answer. “The thought of you on your knees with that pretty mouth doing what it was created for was enough for me to look beyond your family’s circumstances and make your father an offer. When I learned that your involvement with the seminary meant that you were untouched to boot, well, that just sealed the deal.”

He reaches a hand out, curling it tightly around Nicky’s jaw, almost but not quite to the point of pain. “You’re going to look so good in my bed,” he says now, “spread out and taking my cock like you were made for it. I’m going to make you _scream_.”

Bile rising in his throat, Nicky slaps his hand away. “You’re disgusting,” he hisses. “I’ll never -“

“You will,” Keane interrupts calmly. “Because if you don’t I will personally see to it that all of your father’s debt collectors come calling and that no one in their right mind would ever look at your siblings as an eligible match. Is that understood?”

Nicky means to snarl at him, but he’s stayed by the thought of his siblings. Instead, he turns on his heel and marches in the opposite direction, determined to put some distance between them before he does something he can’t take back.

He makes his way through the crowd, stumbling slightly in his haste. Not looking where he’s going, he almost tramples a slender dark haired woman wearing a red dress that clings to her figure.

“My apologies,” he mutters when she steps back with an annoyed huff. 

Clearly about to give him a piece of her mind, the woman straightens to her full height only to pause when she gets a good look at him. “Are you alright?” she asks, speaking with an accent he can’t place. “You look ... out of sorts.”

Nicky barks out a humourless laugh. “I’m as fine as I can be under the circumstances,” he says, which is not, technically, a lie. “And I’m terribly sorry for almost running you over.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she replies. “As it happens, I was just thinking to myself that the night’s been rather dull so far. I suppose being nearly taken out by a stomping courtier at least spruces things up. Indeed, whom do I have the pleasure of addressing anyway?”

“Nicolo di Genova,” Nicky says, flushing with embarrassment that he’d forgotten even that much. “I’m here with my ... family.”

If she catches his slip, the woman doesn’t say so. “I know the name,” she says. “You’re Duke Keane’s betrothed, aren’t you? My name is Quynh,” she adds, thankfully before he can make any comment about Keane. “My wife and I are here visiting the great lout who calls this palace home.”

Nicky blinks, as much thrown by the fondness in her tone as he is by her actual words. “I ... see,” he says diplomatically.

“That much is unlikely,” Quynh informs him. There’s an impish twinkle in her eye that Nicky finds he likes. “Now then, what’s got you all tied in knots during an evening that’s meant to be a celebration?”

All at once Keane’s words come flooding back and Nicky yet again feels sick to his stomach. “I’m afraid it’s not anything you can help with,” he says weakly, “but I thank you for trying.”

“Hmm,” she says. Raking him up and down with her sharp gaze, she’s quiet for a few seconds before reaching out to grab him by the sleeve. “Come with me.”

“ _No_ ,” Nicky snaps. Having well and truly reached his breaking point, he pulls free of her grip, refusing the command. “I’m sorry, but I find I’ve had quite enough of being dragged around like a trained pet for one evening.”

Quynh’s eyebrows shoot up so fast he’s surprised they don’t disappear into her hairline. Then her face softens. “I’m sorry,” she says contritely. “I should have explained. There’s a powder room not many people know about not far from here. I thought perhaps you might like a bit of privacy.”

“Oh.” Shame filling him, Nicky bites his lip to stop any more rude comments from slipping out. “I - I apologize again. That’s very kind of you, but also unnecessary.”

“Indeed,” she says dryly, not buying his protest for a moment. “Yet maybe you’ll let me show you, regardless?”

Nicky knows he really should say no, should stay out in the open for appearance’s sake, but the very idea makes his skin crawl. Surely a short reprieve couldn’t hurt.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” he says.

Quynh, as it happens, does not mind, and she makes a point of keeping her hands to herself as she leads him first to a deserted hallway and then to the promised washroom. 

“I have to go find Andromache,” she says then, presumably referring to the wife she’d mentioned earlier. Nicky vaguely recalls hearing about a visiting Queen by that name. “It was nice to have met you, Nicolo.”

“You too,” Nicky says, and means it. So far his interaction with Quynh has been the only vaguely pleasant one of the evening. He watches her go, the train of her red gown swishing behind her as she moves, and waits until she’s out of sight before pushing open the door in front of him.

The room he finds himself in is spacious and well lit, but above all else it is blessedly free of any other people. Huffing out a relieved breath, Nicky steps over to a heavily ornate basin, dipping his hands inside to splash some cool water on his face.

The shock of the water hitting his skin helps a little, but can only do so much to quell the feelings he’s been struggling to keep at bay since his disastrous conversation with Keane. His hands start shaking against his will, and his throat constricts with a sudden urge to be sick. 

Deciding that’s the last thing he needs, he fights to keep his gorge down, not wanting to give Keane the satisfaction of rendering him so out of sorts. He stands there, dry heaving over the basin, until the sound of the door opening behind him startles him back to the present.

“I’m sorry,” says the striking man who’s just stepped into the room. “I didn’t realize anyone else was in here.”

“It’s fine,” Nicky rasps. Stepping away from the basin, he reaches for a stack of towels resting on a pedestal not far away, plucking one off the top to use to dry his hands. “I was on my way out.”

Rather than shift out of the way to let Nicky get by, the man stays where he is, cocking his head to the side like he’s been presented with a puzzle to solve. His dark eyes are some of the warmest Nicky’s ever seen, and, he thinks, contain a hint of worry in them. 

“Forgive me if I’m being too forward,” the man says, “but are you alright?”

Something that’s probably hysteria burrows it’s way into Nicky’s chest. “You’re the second person to ask me that in the last twenty minutes,” he chokes out. “Just how bad do I look?”

“I will admit I’ve seen better,” the man says kindly, “but I’ve also seen worse. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not unless you have the power to dissolve horrific marriage contracts,” Nicky blurts out before he can stop himself. He claps a hand over his mouth as soon as he does so, but it’s too late, the damage is done.

Or not, as it turns out. The man’s eyes soften impossibly further, and he glances down to look at Nicky’s hands. “Ah,” he says sombrely. “An unwelcome engagement, I take it?”

He’d been looking for a wedding ring, Nicky realizes belatedly. Curling his hands into fists, he considers shoving them into his pockets. “It’s nothing,” he insists. “Please forget I said anything, I beg of you.”

“There’s no need of that,” the man replies, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My lips are sealed.”

“Thank you,” Nicky breathes, relieved. Dropping the used towel in the bin that’s been specifically set aside for them, he gives the man an expectant look, waiting for him to move so Nicky can get by.

“I’m Joe,” the man says, not taking the hint. “This must be your first time at the palace, isn’t it? I’m sure I’d have remembered you if I’d seen you before.”

Resigning himself to not yet making good on his escape - and, if he’s being honest with himself, not entirely wanting to - Nicky reigns in a sigh. “Not exactly,” he says, “I’ve been away at seminary for quite some time. Before that I did not get out much. I’ve been here before, though. Years ago with my parents. When I was a boy.”

“Hardly the same circumstances, and that would have been before my time,” Joe points out. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

“Very,” Nicky informs him. “Though it’s kind of you to ask.”

Joe dips his head almost bashfully, like he’s pleased by Nicky’s words. “If you’re sure -“ he starts, and that’s when the door gets shoved open yet again, this time unceremoniously so.

“Nicolo, you wretch! Kozak said she saw you heading in here ages ago and that’s quite enough of that. Stop behaving like a petulant child and - oh.” Having no doubt expected to find Nicky alone in the room, Keane freezes when this turns out not to be the case. 

“Lord al-Kaysani,” he says roughly. “Forgive me. I didn’t realize you were in here as well.”

Ignoring Nicky’s gobsmacked expression, Joe - or rather Lord Yusuf al-Kaysani, ruler of their land - favours Keane with a glare. “I don’t think it’s me you should be asking for forgiveness,” he says icily. “Or do you honestly think that’s an appropriate way to speak to your fiancé of all people?”

Keane has the nerve to try and meet Joe’s gaze at first, but it doesn’t last long before he looks away. “I - of course not, my Lord. It’s only that we quarreled earlier, you see. I suppose I let my anger get the better of me.”

“Strangely enough that still doesn’t sound like an apology,” Joe says, and Nicky, not missing the way Keane’s face is darkening, knows he needs to step in.

“It’s alright, my, um, my Lord,” he says, almost reaching out to hold Joe back before he thinks better of it. “Like he said, we were arguing earlier. I said some things I should not have.”

Joe gives him a look that says he doesn’t believe him, at least not about who it was that said things they shouldn’t have, but opts not to press. “I see,” he says instead. “Very well then. I’ll let the matter rest.”

“Thank you,” Nicky tells him, grateful for his discretion. “And - it was very nice meeting you.”

He can tell from the look on Keane’s face, safely hidden behind Joe for the moment, that this was also a mistake. He cannot, however, bring himself to care, especially not when Joe gives him a small, pleased smile in return. 

“You as well, Nicolo, was it?” At Nicky’s nod, his smile gets even bigger. “Then you as well, Nicolo.”

Their eyes lock for a moment, and for the first time all evening Nicky feels something pleasant stir in his gut. Then, of course, Keane makes a show of clearing his throat in obvious annoyance, effectively breaking the spell.

“I - we, we should go,” Nicky says, nodding at Keane to show who he means by ‘we’. “Have a good night, my Lord.”

Joe murmurs something along the lines of ‘same to you’, but Nicky misses the exact wording in the sound of the door swinging shut behind him. 

“What?” He asks when he notices Keane staring at him, expression grave. “Dare I ask what you plan to say to me now? Don’t worry, I’m not about to hold my breath waiting for that apology.”

Keane’s expression darkens impossibly further. “I think,” he says slowly, “that you should be very, very careful how you speak to me going forward. You’ve got less than two months before you’re mine for good, Nicolo. You might want to give that some consideration.”

Nicky, who knows when to keep his thoughts to himself, doesn’t answer.

*****

If Nicky had thought things were bad before, they get impossibly worse after the night of the banquet. Little had he known it at the time, but it seems Keane had actually been holding himself back when it came to his inappropriate behaviour. Now, though, it appears the gloves have come off.

They’re at another party, but this one is a private affair hosted by Duke Merrick at his home. Nicky recognizes most of the guests, Copley and Kozak included, as being from the same group Keane had drawn them to the night of the banquet, although there’s a tall blond man he can’t place who keeps close to Copley.

Keane is in his element, dragging Nicky around the room by his elbow, cracking crass joke after crass joke that leave Nicky gritting his teeth so hard he’s surprised he doesn’t break something. 

They’ve circled the room twice already when they wind up in a quiet alcove that contains Merrick, Copley, and the blond man. Clutching the drink in his hand, at least his third of the night, the stranger nods at Nicky upon their arrival, but doesn’t say anything.

Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for Merrick, who immediately launches into a meandering diatribe about the state of the country and how it’s falling to rack and ruin under its current management.

“It’s disgraceful, utterly disgraceful,” he says at one point. He’s been going on for so long by now that Nicky’s tuned him out and largely lost the thread of conversation, too busy focusing instead on ignoring the feel of Keane’s hand on his waist. “Every courtier in the land has rightfully earned their wealth and now this upstart lord comes along, taxes us all half to death, and then practically gives it away to the supposedly less fortunate. The absolute nerve of the bastard.”

“Careful, Stephen,” this comes from Copley who takes a measured sip from his own glass. “Talk like that makes it sound like you don’t care for Lord al-Kaysani.”

“I don’t,” Merrick replies, and there’s a sudden shift in his tone that sends an unexpected shiver down Nicky’s spine. “It’s no secret, though. Everyone knows I can’t stand him, and that he’d just as happily slit my throat if given the opportunity.”

Nicky starts at this, a wordless noise of protest slipping past his lips before he can stop it. He hopes it was quiet enough to go unheard, but of course his luck is never anything but poor when in Keane’s company.

“You don’t agree, Nicolo?” Merrick asks, his gaze snapping to Nicky’s face with alarming speed. “I didn’t know you were a fan of his lordship.”

For some reason he shoots Keane a dirty look as he says this, and Keane stares sullenly back at him. Not sure how to diffuse the situation but wanting to, Nicky carefully considers his reply.

“I don’t care for him one way or the other,” he says finally. “I’ve only met him once, and that was for only a handful of minutes, barely enough time to even start forming an opinion.”

“Hmmph,” Merrick scowls. Next to him, the still unnamed blond man takes a hasty gulp of his drink, almost as if he’s fortifying himself for an oncoming squall.

“You need to better educate your fiancé on al-Kaysani and his myriad of less than redeeming qualities,” Merrick says, ignoring Nicky in favour of speaking directly to Keane. “Clearly that seminary had him a little _too_ secluded.”

Nicky bristles, fully intending to give the unpleasant weasel a piece of his mind despite the fact that he’s currently their host, which is when Keane’s hand on his waist tightens hard enough that he’s liable to leave bruises. Understanding the warning for what it is, Nicky stays silent.

“He’ll learn, Stephen,” Keane says then. “I’ll add it to the list of things I intend to teach him. It’ll go right behind all the ways he’ll be pleasing me in the bedroom.”

Merrick barks out a laugh, which thankfully covers Nicky’s resulting growl, but the blond man’s eyes narrow. “What in the world is that supposed to mean?” He asks, speaking for the first time.

“Haven’t you heard?” Merrick asks, still snickering. “Honestly, Sebastien, if you could see fit to crawl your way out of a bottle every now and again I’m sure you’d be more aware of the world.”

“Our good friend Keane,” he continues on, seemingly oblivious to both Nicky’s building fury and Sebastien’s acute embarrassment, “has somehow managed to find himself a blushing virgin to take to the alter. It’s the talk of the town.”

“Hmm,” Sebastien says, but thankfully doesn’t press the matter. Nicky thinks it says several condemning things about Merrick and his associates that it’s the drunk among them who has the most decorum, though he supposes Copley’s also now keeping his mouth shut.

Merrick opens his mouth to say something else, no doubt something as equally awful as his last retort, and Nicky decides he’s had enough. Shaking free of Keane’s clutches, he mutters something about needing some air and stalks off in the direction of the balcony doors he’d spotted earlier.

Keane says something too low for him to hear as he leaves, but his tone and Merrick’s resulting snicker are more than enough to keep him moving.

*****

“Your fiancé is looking for you.”

From where he’s been hunched over the balcony railing, idly staring out at the vista before him, Nicky startles. Catching himself just in time, he turns around and comes face to face with an unexpected visitor.

He searches his brain, trying to remember from earlier, nodding when it clicks. “Sebastien, correct?”

“For my sins,” the other man replies, saluting him with the bottle of wine he’s apparently now forgone a glass in favour of. “Sebastien le Livre, at your service. You can call me Bastien if you like.”

“I don’t,” Nicky replies cooly before turning back around. Sebastien may have been less offensive than some of the other guests earlier, but he’s stilling willingly attending a private party hosted by Stephen Merrick. As far as Nicky’s concerned that does nothing but reflect poorly on his character.

He hears a faint chuckle behind him, and the next thing he knows Sebastien is standing next to him, mirroring his position as he leans over the railing. “Looking away won’t make it any better,” he says knowingly. “Drink?”

Nicky stares at the proffered bottle for several long moments. “No, thank you,” he says when it becomes clear it’s not going away until he answers. “All yours.”

“And then some,” Sebastien replies nonsensically. Drawing the bottle back, he takes a long swig, his throat working as he swallows. “S’the only way to deal with these vultures most days, you know. Absolute swine, the lot of them.”

“Except James,” he notes, seemingly as an aftermath. “He’s alright.”

“And you,” he says, or slurs rather. Nicky wonders how long it’ll be before he reaches the stage of falling-down-drunk. It honestly can’t be far off at this point. “You are not what I would have expected Keane to go for. Not in a thousand years.”

“Bet you wish he hadn’t,” he adds with what he probably thinks is a roguish wink. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that you can’t stand him.”

“He’s my fiancé,” Nicky says blandly.

Sebastien, the nerve of him, laughs. “You’re very good at saying the opposite of what you mean,” he declares. “For instance, what you said was ‘he’s my fiancé’, but what I heard was ‘I’d like to see his head on a pike’.”

“You’re drunk,” Nicky tells him, shifting slightly to the right to put some distance between them.

“Yes,” Sebastien agrees, “but that’s nothing new. I’m always drunk. Everyone knows that. That’s the _point_.”

Nicky hasn’t the faintest idea as to what that means, and Sebastien’s brain appears to have wandered off on another tangent because what he says next is, “You didn’t like when Merrick insulted Lord al-Kaysani. I could tell.”

“I fail to see how,” Nicky says. Indeed, right about now he fails to see how Sebastien can stand up without falling over. “As I said, I don’t even know the man.”

“Maybe not, but it sounds like one meeting actually was enough time to form an opinion.” Sebastien says. “Tell me, what did he do that got you willing to openly scoff in Merrick’s face about him?”

Surprised by the question, Nicky answers it without thinking. “He was kind,” he says simply. “And he didn’t need to be.”

“Yes, he does that,” Sebastien says, and then he leans in close, so close that Nicky’s surprised he can’t smell the alcohol on his breath. “You should keep that opinion to yourself,” he whispers. “This isn’t a crowd who will appreciate it.”

“ _Bastien_.”

At the sound of a new voice, both Nicky and his companion whirl around to find Copley watching them with an exasperated look on his face.

“Bastien, come away,” he says tiredly. “Poor Nicolo doesn’t need to be dealing with your particular brand of ... everything.”

Sebastien straightens to his full height, he’s quite tall when he’s not all sunk in on himself, and offers up a bright grin. “James,” he says, sounding genuinely happy for the first time all evening. “Want a drink?”

“No.” Copley’s voice is firm, holding no room for argument, and Nicky thinks he sees Sebastien flinch. “You’ve had enough for both of us, I’m sure.”

“No such thing,” Sebastien says with a shrug. He knocks back another swig of wine, and this time Nicky’s pretty sure it’s Copley who flinches.

“Enough, Bastien,” he says. “I think it’s time for us to leave.”

“Fine by me,” Sebastien replies, now sounding sullen. “I didn’t even want to come in the first place.”

Copley heaves a long suffering sigh - this clearly isn’t news to him - and steps forward to pry the bottle out of Sebastien’s hands. “Enough, old man,” he says, so low that Nicky can barely hear him. “Let’s get you home.”

Sebastien’s reply is beyond Nicky’s reach, but he allows Copley to start steering him back they way they’d came.

“Oh, Nicolo?” Copley pauses and says almost as an afterthought. “I believe Duke Keane is looking for you.”

“That’s what I said,” Sebastien crows victoriously, and the last thing Nicky sees of them is Copley rolling his eyes before they cross back over into the main room.

Huffing, Nicky stays resolutely right where he is.

*****

As the season ramps up so too do the number of social events that Keane insists on dragging Nicky to. They’re out what feels like every other night at this point, sometimes to private affairs and in other instances much larger ones.

Tonight’s is another of the latter events. They’re back at the palace, although this time the party is taking place in one of the lush gardens that trail about the property, as opposed to indoors. Nicky finds he prefers this, partly because it makes his inevitable need to escape Keane all the more easier to achieve.

He leaves Keane standing near a punch bowl, engaged in conversation with Meta Kozak. For once Merrick has opted not to a attend a party, meaning it’s easier for Nicky to slip away. 

Accepting a flute of some sparkling beverage from a passing waiter, Nicky picks his way carefully through the crowd, in the end deciding to take a closer look at the gardens. He thinks there might be official tours being organized for anyone interested, but he’d rather have the time to himself.

The gardens truly are beautiful, and they get increasingly peaceful the further away he gets from the main group. At one point he hears what he thinks is the sound of water flowing, so he trails in that direction, interested to see what he might find. He meanders his way along the path, lit by rows of miniature lanterns, and eventually comes to a stop in front of a small fountain tucked away where it’s unlikely to draw much attention.

It’s a lovely sight, and Nicky’s so intrigued by it that it takes him a moment to realize he’s not alone.

“Good evening, Nicolo,” someone says, and when Nicky cranes his neck around in surprise he finds Lord al-Kaysani himself staring back at him. “Are you enjoying the party?”

Nicky makes an undignified noise that he refuses to characterize as a squeak. “Forgive me, my Lord,” he says quickly. “I thought I was the only one who’d strayed this far off the beaten path.”

“Obviously not,” the tall woman standing next to Lord al-Kaysani says dryly. She has dark hair worn short in direct defiance of the current fashion, and where most of the ladies present tonight are wearing elaborate gowns, she’s chosen to come in a form fitting suit that does an excellent job of showing off her muscles. Looking faintly amused, she cocks her head. “Who’s your friend, Joe?”

“This is Nicolo,” Lord al-Kaysani informs her. “He and I met at the gala last month. He’s the oldest son of the di Genova family.”

“Oh that’s you,” the woman says, looking surprised. She quirks one dark eyebrow at Nicky. “You’re the one who almost trampled my wife at that party.”

“I’m sorry?” Nicky says, and Lord al-Kaysani rolls his eyes.

“Nicolo, allow me introduce you to Andromache of Scythia, who I’m sure would apologize for her manners if she had any.” He gives her a playful nudge with his shoulder. “I thought your beloved was working with you on that.”

Andromache doesn’t so much as blink. “Quynh’s as much of a lost cause as I am,” she says. “I don’t know why you think she’d be able to help.”

“Yes, well, I live in hope, you dreadful woman. Why I ever asked you to come visit is beyond me.”

“No, it isn’t,” Andromache says with a seriousness that belies the situation. “And you’ll do well to remember that.”

“Indeed,” Lord al-Kaysani replies. Then he gestures to his second companion, another woman with dark skin and black hair done up in two tightly coiled braids. “And this is Nile, who unlike Andy does know about the existence of manners and even employs them from time to time.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Nicky says, nodding at each woman in turn, “and to see you again, my Lord. My apologies for disturbing your chat.”

“Oh we were finishing up anyway,” Lord al-Kaysani assures him. “In fact, I believe Nile was just about to show Andy the section where we keep our more exotic plants.”

Nile makes a face like this is news to her, but it pales in comparison to Andromache’s expression. Nicolo can’t be certain so soon after meeting her, but he’s willing to bet she could care less about the surrounding plant life.

Andromache says something in a language Nicky doesn’t recognize, making Lord al-Kaysani laugh. He then responds in what is presumably the same language, causing Andromache to sigh.

“Fine,” she huffs. “I suppose Booker’s been right every once in a blue moon, and it won’t hurt to see if this is one of those times. C’mon, Nile, let’s go look at the stupid plants.”

“What in the world does that mean?” Nicky can’t help but ask as the two women depart. Then he flushes, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lord al-Kaysani says. “Call it an inside joke between myself, Andy, and another of our friends. Having said that,” and here he tilts his head towards Nicky with a hint of challenge in his tone, “I seem to recall telling you to call me Joe the last time we met.”

Nicky blinks, surprised. “Honestly, I just assumed that was because you were trying to keep me from realizing who you were.”

“It wasn’t,” Joe says firmly. “How are you by the way? I hope you’re having a better evening than you were that night.”

Nicky shrugs, not daring himself to comment.

“I see,” Joe says with a heavy sigh. “A pity.”

“It’s fine,” Nicky says, not liking the look on Joe’s face and wanting to make it go away. “What about you? How is your night going?”

The other man shrugs in a most un-regal manner. “Eh, no complaints. What do you think of the gardens?”

That question at least Nicky can answer honestly. “They’re lovely,” he says. “It was a wonderful idea to open them up like this.”

Joe smiles. “As it was specifically my idea, I thank you.” He gestures suddenly with one hand. “May I show you around?”

A part of Nicky wants very strongly to say yes, but his more rational side makes him hesitate. “I’m not sure my fiancé would appreciate that,” he admits quietly. “He cares a great deal about my ... reputation.”

“So I’ve heard,” and this time when Joe speaks there’s a hint of steel in his tone. “Pardon me if I’m out of line, but how that man speaks of you is utterly disgraceful. I’d never say such things about anyone, let alone the person I planned to marry.”

Nicky winces and looks away. “It’s not a love match,” he admits, “more of an economic one.”

“How pragmatic,” Joe says, his tone softening. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” Nicky assures him, even though it’s admittedly something of a white lie. Still, it’s worth it for the way Joe’s expression clears. “It’s very nice, the way you care about your people.”

It’s late and dark so it’s hard to tell, but Nicky’s pretty sure his words have made Joe blush. He finds himself enjoying the thought.

Joe clears his throat. “You’re welcome,” he says. “It’s all - all part of the job.”

“Of course,” Nicky demurres, frankly a little appalled at himself for the way he’s behaving - flirting with his host of all things while is own fiancé is somewhere nearby. “You’re obviously very good at it.”

“And you’re obviously a tease,” Joe replies, confirming that he noticed the flirting. He does not, Nicky notes, seem overly bothered. “Are you sure I can’t offer you that tour?”

Nicky considers the offer. Yes, it’s likely to make Keane furious when he finds out, which he _will_ , but, really, what more can the man do to him at this point? It’s not like their disdain for each other can get any worse, and nor is it bound to improve.

“You know what,” he decides. “I think I’d like that.”

Joe’s smile is just as nice as Nicky remembers, and it gets even bigger when Nicky accepts his proffered arm. “This way,” he says, happily. “I know all the best spots.”

*****

“Where did you disappear to this time?”

His thoughts elsewhere, Nicky doesn’t initially hear Keane’s question, and it’s not until the other man rests a hand on his knee, clenching it pointedly that he tunes back in. 

Since they’re alone in the carriage, Nicky kicks him away. 

“I hardly see how that’s any business of yours,” he says icily.

Keane bares his teeth in a terrible approximation of a smile. “Sebastien said he saw you with Lord al-Kaysani,” he all but snarls. “Walking arm in arm.”

“Sebastien is an idiot,” Nicky sniffs, though inwardly he’s cursing. He’d known this was likely to happen, yet part of him had still hoped that his and Joe’s walk would go unnoticed. “And a drunk.”

“True,” Keane admits, “but neither of those things mean he’s blind. Were you with al-Kaysani or not?”

“I saw him at one point,” Nicky concedes. “He introduced me to two women he was with. Andromache of Scythia and another, Nile. I didn’t catch her full name if anyone said it.”

“Freeman,” Keane grunts, leaning back in his seat, apparently mollified. “She’s one of al-Kaysani’s bodyguards. The top one if rumour is to be believed.”

“That can’t be right. She can’t be any more than twenty-five,” Nicky disagrees. “And she was in full court dress.”

“Like that matters.” Shifting to get comfortable, Keane crosses one leg over the other and gives Nicky a pitying look. “Stick to your precious books, Nicolo. You’ve got no head for politics.”

Maybe not, but if Keane does then that’s news to Nicky. In a world where people are either followed or followers, Keane definitely falls into the second category. 

Unwilling to pick a fight over it, however, Nicky returns to staring out the window as the streets roll by.

*****

Three days before they’re due to be married, Keane has the audacity to hit him at a public function. They’re in a secluded location when it happens, Keane having dragged Nicky into the shadows to reprimand him for not being suitably attentive, but that doesn’t make it any better.

Ignoring the stinging in his cheek, Nicky squares his shoulders and gets right back in Keane’s face. He may not have quite the training Keane does, but they’re of height with each other and Nicky certainly knows how to throw a punch. “Try that again,” he growls. “I _dare_ you.”

“I’ll do all that and more if you don’t stop with the damned back talk,” Keane snarls in return. “So help me, I will see to it that you’re properly broken in once we’re married.”

“Well, _I’m_ going to advise you not to put money on that,” Nicky retorts. He’s resigned himself to the fact that their marriage is not going to be happy one, and he’s petty enough that he fully intends to make Keane regret ever choosing him. 

Keane’s lips draw back in a poor approximation of a smile and both he and Nicky clench their hands into fists when somebody giggles nearby. The plants shielding them from view are then shoved backwards, and in comes the Lady Quynh, dragging her wife behind her.

“Oh my,” she gasps, loud enough that Nicky suspects she’s been partaking heavily from the punch bowl. “It looks like we’re not the only ones looking for some privacy, darling.”

“Apparently not,” Andromache acknowledges. She raises a single eyebrow at them, and Nicky ducks his head to hide his face and stop her from noticing the reddened skin. “We didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t,” Nicky assures her. “In fact, we were just leaving. Do enjoy the rest of your night.”

Ducking around the two women, he leaves the hidden alcove, fully intending to put some distance between himself and his asshole of a fiancé.

“Nicolo, get back - oh, what now?”

Turning carefully, Nicky finds that Keane has emerged as well, only to be immediately crashed into by Sebastien le Livre, who looks to be even more soused than Quynh. Nicky watches the two men for a moment - Le Livre appears to be using Keane to hold himself upright - and then uses the distraction to make his escape.

“My, you’re in quite a hurry tonight. Is something on fire somewhere?”

Reacting on instinct, Nicky looks up without thinking and finds himself face to face with Joe who’s standing by himself on the outskirts of the crowd. He smiles reflexively, and then winces when the motion pulls at the skin of his cheek.

In keeping with how the night is going, Joe notices right away. His open, friendly expression freezes immediately, and he takes the few steps necessary to put himself directly in Nicky’s path.

“What happened?” He demands, sounding for the first time like a stern-faced ruler, the kind of person Nicky had always imagined as being in charge of people. “Who did this to you?”

Touched by his concern, Nicky nevertheless has a strong urge to roll his eyes. “Who do you think? We were in the middle of an argument that was on the verge of becoming an all out brawl when your friends interrupted us. I suppose I should thank them for preventing us from causing a massive scene.”

Joe doesn’t respond except to hold out his hand and say, “Come with me.”

“Please.” He adds a little desperately when all Nicky does is stare at him.

“Oh alright,” Nicky sighs. It’ll get back to Keane, he’s sure of it, might even cause a stir among the other courtiers, but what does he care. His and Keane’s dislike of each other is rapidly becoming public knowledge at this point.

His mind made up, Nicky reaches out to accept Joe’s outstretched hand, and allows himself to be lead gently but firmly away from the throng of people.

“Where are we going?” He asks after a few minutes have passed. He’d expected Joe to take him somewhere quiet to talk, but still remain in the hall. Instead, they seem to be leaving altogether.

“Physician’s room,” Joe says tightly, and Nicky almost drops his hand. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he hasn’t anyway. It’s just the two of them now, and he doesn’t need to worry about getting separated.

“I don’t need that,” he says aloud. “It wasn’t that hard, and likely won’t even bruise.”

Joe makes a pained sound, like he’s the one who’d gotten slapped, and if anything, he squeezes Nicky’s hand a little harder. “It’s this way,” he says.

Biting back another sigh, Nicky resigns himself to his fate. They traverse a few more corridors, most of which he pays next to no attention to because he’s too busy cursing inwardly, but eventually they come to a stop before a heavy wooden door that Joe pushes open unceremoniously.

“Celeste,” he calls, and a slender woman with dark hair appears from a back room. “Oh good. There you are.”

“Here I am,” she agrees with a nod. Her eyes flick to Nicky briefly, and he doesn’t miss the way they narrow suspiciously when they do. “What can I do for you, my Lord.”

“Knock it off, Celeste,” Joe says, annoyed. “It’s just the three of us here. No need to pander to my ego with formalities.”

“I would never do that,” Celeste replies. “But regardless, I take it you need something?”

“He thinks you need to look at this,” Nicky says, stepping in before Joe can get even more worked up. “I got in an argument with another guest, and he’s blowing the result out of proportion.”

“Out of -!” Joe starts, but Nicky quells him with a look. 

“I was fully about to hit back,” he says firmly. “And I’m more than capable of doing so. So, yes, out of proportion.”

They stare at each other for several long moments before Celeste, who’s now glancing back and forth between them with a sort of evident irritation, snorts. “I’ll get some ice.”

Turning on her heel, she marches back the way she’d come, leaving Nicky and Joe to their own devices. They continue eyeing each other for a bit, before Joe makes a frustrated noise.

“You should sit,” he says finally. He gestures to a padded bed that’s probably meant for examinations. “She won’t be long.”

“I’m fine,” Nicky retorts, crossing his arms over his chest and refusing to move.

It’s like something breaks in Joe then. He catches his lower lip between his teeth, biting down on it like he’s trying to prevent words from coming out. At the same time, he closes eyes and breathes out heavily through his nose.

“Nicolo, please,” he says softly, his tone one of misery. “Please, just sit.”

Nicky sits. He’s perhaps rather more grudging about it than he has any right to be, but he does it.

Joe for his part looks relieved. He watches Nicky carefully for a few moments, like he’s afraid he might faint or burst into tears or something equally dramatic, and seems to relax the longer those things go without happening.

They don’t speak while they wait for Celeste to return, and when she inevitably reappears with a few cloths and a bowl of ice cubes in her hands, she raises her eyebrows in surprise. 

“You didn’t have to stay, Lord al-Kaysani.” As Nicky watches, she unfolds one of the cloths and begins wrapping it around about half a dozen of the ice cubes. “It’s easily dealt with. He just needs to apply the ice to prevent any swelling.”

The cloth secured around the ice, she moves to raise it to the side of Nicky’s face, only to stop when Joe holds up a hand. 

“Let me,” he says, staring levelly back when both Celeste and Nicky blink at him.

“I mean it,” he adds when neither of them move. “Give me the ice, Celeste.”

“You don’t pay me enough to deal with this,” Celeste declares. Relinquishing the ice into Joe’s hold, she sets the bowl and spare cloths down on a nearby tray. “I’m going to my office. Yell if you need me.”

Nicky watches her go with a feeling of consternation. “You’re people speak to you in a very frank manner,” he says.

Joe laughs. “That’s certainly one way of putting it. Now, hold still so I can make sure I line this up correctly.”

Having shifted to let his eyes follow Celeste as she’d made her departure, Nicky’s surprised when he turns back around and sees how close Joe now is. There’s barely a few inches worth of space between them, and before he realizes what’s happening, Joe places the fingers of his free hand beneath Nicky’s chin.

His breath catching, Nicky feels his heart rate pick up in the face of the gentle touch, and the faint gasp he lets out has very little to do with the sudden shock of cold as Joe presses the ice to his skin.

“It’s alright,” Joe hums, stroking his thumb comfortingly over the hinge of Nicky’s jaw. “The temperature will adjust quickly.”

Thankfully, Joe seems to have misinterpreted what’s wrong with Nicky. His brown eyes are kind as he carefully adjusts the ice, and he lets out soothing, if unnecessary, murmurs of praise as he does so.

Nicky feels like his tongue is lodged to the roof of his mouth or his words are trapped somewhere in the back of his throat. Coughing slightly, he tries to focus on something other than the feel of Joe’s touch.

“I’m fine,” he says weakly. “I can do this myself.”

“Nothing about this is fine,” Joe replies with more than a little heat in his voice. “He _hit_ you.”

“He did,” Nicky agrees, “and he should not have, which he and I will be talking about at great length, whether he likes it or not. It’s not your problem, though. My Lord.”

“Don’t do that,” Joe says immediately. “Don’t try and deflect your way out of this with formalities. That animal saw fit to lay hands on you, and you’re acting like I shouldn’t care.”

“Because you shouldn’t,” Nicky says. He moves to shift away, pulling back so that the ice Joe is still holding sides away from his face. “My life isn’t your concern.”

“All my subjects’ lives are my concern,” Joe counters, “and none moreso than yours at this moment.”

Nicky snorts, while prodding tentatively at the side of his face. The skin is cool to the touch, but likewise stings less than it had earlier. “How noble.”

“It’s not -“ Joe starts, and then visibly changes tactics. “Why are you even engaged to him in the first place? He’s a miserable bastard.”

“I told you,” Nicky sighs, remembering the last time they’d briefly touched on the subject. “It’s an economic arrangement. My parents are ... in debt, and if there’s one thing Keane has at his disposal it’s money. By marrying him, I’ll set the family prospects back in line, and at the same time pave the way for more advantageous matchups for my siblings.”

He pauses then to give Joe a long look. “You’re the ruler of an entire land,” he says firmly. “You _know_ how this works.”

Joe has the nerve to scowl at him. “Just because I understand the political machinations doesn’t mean I have to like them,” he mutters. “And no one can actually force you to marry Keane. Not if you truly don’t want to.”

“I don’t want to marry anyone,” Nicky snaps back, feeling his face heat with a sudden unexpected burst of shame. “I was due to take my vows in a matter of days before the letter arrived to recall me from the seminary. I didn’t _ask_ for any of this, but it’s the reality of what I’m facing and I will deal with it how _I_ choose. If I want your opinion on the matter, my Lord, I will _ask_ for it.”

Joe visibly recoils and proceeds to busy himself with wringing out the damp cloth so as to prevent melted ice from dripping all over the floor. “Of course,” he says, refusing to look Nicky in the eye. “Your pardon, Nicolo, I didn’t mean to overstep.”

“You didn’t,” Nicky says, his anger leaving him as quickly as it had arrived. “It’s just - it’s just -. I don’t know. I’m sorry, that was rude.”

“Maybe,” Joe agrees easily, “but not exactly unjustified. I shouldn’t have pressed.”

“Truly, though,” he adds, and his voice is so earnest, so kind, that Nicky’s heart does another traitorous flip. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Not unless you can travel back in time and make it so that I never caught Keane’s eye,” Nicky informs him. “I don’t even know how that happened. He says he saw me at some event and was struck by ... whatever.” 

The corner of Joe’s mouth tilts up in the barest hint of a smirk. “As much as it pains me to agree with Keane on any point, I’m afraid I can’t fault him for that part. You are very beautiful.”

“And you are very charming,” Nicky replies, “but your flattery will get you nowhere, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect it to,” Joe assures him. “At least, not on it’s own. There’s too much substance to you, Nicolo. Pretty words won’t be enough to sway you.”

“There’s nothing to sway,” Nicky says firmly. “I’m marrying Keane. Anything else,” and here he very pointedly does not look away from Joe, “would be a fantasy. Nothing more.”

Joe meets his gaze without flinching. “You know I’m the one in charge around here, yes? I know it’s strange, a Muslim ruler in a predominantly Christian land, but I have the same powers as any of the other Lords. If you wish it -“

“Don’t.” Nicky cuts him off firmly, not wanting to hear the offer he all but knows is coming. “I said _don’t_ ,” he repeats when Joe looks like he means to carry on regardless. “It would be an abuse of power. You _know_ that.”

“It would be a public service,” Joe snipes. “You’re far too good for the ingrate.”

“He’d just find somebody else, somebody less suited to standing up to him,” Nicky mutters. “One of my siblings, perhaps, which I will never let happen.”

Joe smiles then, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “As I said,” he murmurs, slowly dropping the spiked cloth into the now empty bowl. “Too good.”

*****

The wedding is lavish and beautiful. Nicky’s mother cries, although likely not tears of joy, while his father looks pleased about all the pomp and circumstance. For his part, Nicky does his best to make it through the ceremony without thinking about what’s to come next.

Of course with every wedding comes a wedding feast, so their first stop following the ceremony is to be the manor’s great hall. Once there they will eat and drink with their guests, all in a celebration of their new union. 

Or at least, that’s how it’s _supposed_ to play out. What actually happens is quite a bit different. 

Keane and Nicky are the first ones through the doors, the rest of the procession trailing along behind them. The hall is elaborately decorated as is only befitting a wedding, and the table is laid out with a meal fit for a king.

It’s also occupied. 

Seated in the spot that by all rights belongs to Keane, is Joe. He’s lounging back with a goblet of something in one hand, looking like a picture of studied nonchalance if ever Nicky had seen one as he waits for their arrival.

For possibly the first time ever, Keane is too stunned at the sight of him to remember to be annoyed. “Lord al-Kaysani,” he says, sounding as confused as Nicky feels. “We weren’t expecting you.”

“No?” Joe asks, tilting his head to one side. “And here I was hoping my invitation got lost in the mail.”

Keane shoots Nicky a look as if he’s somehow to blame for Joe’s presence, but Nicky just holds up his hands to show his innocence. “I didn’t ask him to come,” he hisses. This whole ordeal is mortifying enough, the last thing he wants is for to Joe present to witness the charade.

Keane’s glower doesn’t let up, but he now directs it towards Joe. Behind them the rest of the guests start trickling into the room, milling about awkwardly as they watch the scene all unfold.

“My Lord,” Keane says finally. “If I may, what are you doing here?”

Joe’s answering grin is all teeth. “I’m staking a claim that’s mine by right of being lord of these lands,” he says. “Frankly, you should have expected it with the way you’ve been carrying on these past few months.”

Keane makes a face that suggests he’s getting a headache. “My Lord, if you could perhaps explain a little faster. I don’t mean to step out of line, but I would like to get back to enjoying my wedding night.”

“I’ll speak plainly then,” Joe declares. Standing up from his seat, he sets the goblet aside, places both his hands flat on the table and stares at Keane from across it. “You’ve spent three straight months publicly bragging about your newly wed husband’s purity. It’s made me quite jealous, and I’ve decided to exercise something that is my right as your ruler.”

His smile widening, Joe turns his gaze on Nicky. “I’m here for the right of the first night.”

*****

As evidence that he hasn’t gone completely insane, Joe turns out to have brought an entire retinue of guards with him to the wedding feast - Nile Freeman among them. They appear with a snap of his fingers when Keane, obviously enraged, starts to protest, and the next thing he knows Nicky’s being hustled into a waiting carriage with Joe climbing in beside him.

Joe gives him a sheepish grin as he sits down. “Sorry about all the theatrics,” he says, leaning over to pull the window shade down and effectively trap them in their own private bubble. “I know you don’t much care for that sort of thing.”

“Do you?” Nicky asks faintly. He thinks he’s in a state of shock thanks to this abrupt turn of events. “That’s nice.”

Joe’s grin fades, replaced by one much more akin to worry. “Nicolo,” he starts, only to pause and rub awkwardly at the back of his neck instead. “Let’s wait until we’re at the palace,” he decides. “We can talk then.”

_That_ , Nicky thinks with vigour, is something that most definitely needs to happen. He may have no desire to ever be in Keane’s presence, let alone to be married to him, but nor does he like the idea of anyone else making his decisions for him either, no matter who that person is.

For lack of anything better to do, Nicky settles back against the padded carriage seat and crosses his arms over his chest. He refuses to look at Joe, and spends the entirety of the ride staring studiously ahead without saying a word.

By the time they reach the palace entrance, Nicky has well and truly worked himself into a lather. Apprehension over the unknown may we’ll be exacerbating the problem, but he can feel the beginning stages of fury stirring low in his gut, and he has no idea what to do about it.

The carriage eventually rolls to a stop and the door is opened by someone outside, presumably a servant. Nicky can’t tell because the window shade is still drawn. As he watches, Joe climbs out first and then turns to offer Nicky a helping hand.

Nicky glares at him. “No, thank you,” he says coolly. “I’m perfectly capable of getting down on my own,” he adds, uncrossing his arms and proceeding to do exactly that.

Once he’s safely back on the ground, he gazes up at the suddenly foreboding doors that lead into the palace before turning back to Joe. “After you, my Lord.”

Joe winces, although whether it’s at Nicky’s tone, his choice of words, or both, is unclear. He opens his mouth as if you say something, and then visibly thinks better of it. Instead, he inclines his head in acknowledgement, and begins walking up the stairs to the doors, clearly intending for Nicky to follow him.

Since it’s not like he has any other options, Nicky does.

The palace is quiet at this time of night, yet Nicky can’t help but feel like there are more guards about than normal as he trails after Joe. Telling himself he’s being paranoid, he refuses to make eye contact with any of them, though the thought that they might know _exactly_ why he’s been brought here is enough to make his face flame with humiliation.

He and Joe continue in silence until they reach an ornate door that must be the entrance to the Lord’s private chambers. His stomach swooping alarmingly, Nicky sternly tells himself to show no fear and therefore rounds on Joe as soon as the door clicks shut behind them.

“How dare you,” he hisses, hoping like hell that no one else can hear them. “How fucking _dare_ you?!”

“Nicolo.” Joe raises a hand that’s no doubt meant to silence him, which only serves to make Nicky’s anger ratchet up even further. “If you’ll just let me -“

“Just let you, what?” Nicky demands, interrupting him without a care. “Just let you take me for yourself before Keane can? Just let you claim me like a prize to be won in some barbaric game of tug of war?”

“That’s what this is, isn’t it?” He continues on. Looking around, he can see they’re in some kind of sitting room. There’s another door off to the side, though, and Nicky can easily guess what lays beyond it. “You’ve decided you’ll have me come hell or high water, never mind what I want.”

“No,” Joe denies vehemently. “I understand why you think that, but you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Do I?” Nicky demands. “I may never have laid with another before, but I know full well what right of the first night means. Do you do this with all of your subjects, or am I just special?”

“You are incredibly special,” Joe replies with a seriousness that almost throws Nicky. “You are also playing without all the facts. If you’ll only let me speak, I promise -“

“I don’t want your promises,” Nicky spits. “I thought you were kind. I thought you _cared_ , but it turns out you’re as bad as the rest of them. Or maybe you’re worse. At least Keane never pretended he was interested in more than my body.”

“ _Nicolo_ ,” Joe has the nerve to look hurt by Nicky’s words, and he takes a step forward, his hands outstretched. “Please. I know you’re confused and hurt and probably frightened, but it’s not what you think.

His fingertips brush the front of Nicky’s tunic, and he reacts on instinct, trying to shove him away without thinking. He puts enough force in it that Joe stumbles slightly, but then he comes surging back, gripping Nicky by the wrists to prevent anymore force.

“Nicolo, I swear on my life, I will never lay a hand on you if you don’t want me to.”

Snorting, Nicky glances pointedly down at his wrists, both of which Joe is now holding tightly. He raises a single eyebrow and Joe drops them as if he’s been burned.

“My apologies,” he says. “Just - just will you sit and let me explain?” He gestures to a nearby pair of matching armchairs. “I promise I can explain everything.”

Nicky eyes him warily for several long moments before nodding stiffly. He doesn’t take his eyes off Joe as he settles into one of the indicated seats, and he sits with his back ramrod straight, ready to bolt at any moment if the need arises. “I’m listening.”

“Thank you,” Joe says. He takes the other chair opposite Nicky’s, resting his hands on his knees like he needs something to do with them. “It’s - I’m afraid it’s rather complicated.”

Nicky eyes him coolly. “I’d say I have nowhere else to be, but seeing as you essentially kidnapped me from my own wedding, that’s not exactly true.”

Joe frowns. “Nicolo, we both know you have no desire to be married to Keane. You hate him.”

“Of course I do,” Nicky agrees, seeing no point in denying it. “However, I’m not too fond of you right now either, my Lord.”

“Nicolo ...” Joe sighs and scrubs tiredly at his face with one hand. “I’m making a mess of this.” Squaring his shoulders, he meets Nicky’s gaze levelly. “Stephen Merrick is planning to stage a coup for my title and your husband is helping him.”

That’s so far from what Nicky was expecting it’s all he can do not to laugh. “What?” He asks. “I - what? Even if that were true, which I’m in no way saying it is, what the hell does my wedding night have to do with any such thing?”

“It’s entirely true, Nicolo,” Joe insists. “As for your other question, well, I did say the matter was complicated.”

“Start from the beginning,” Nicky dictates. “And do it now.”

“Very well.” If he’s put off by Nicky ordering him about, Joe does an excellent job of hiding it. “Firstly, let me say I have every confidence that you’re in no way involved in this plot, and I will do my utmost to ensure you don’t get caught in the crossfire if tonight plays out the way I expect.”

“How kind of you,” Nicky doesn’t quite snap. “Stop beating around the push and say what you actually need to say.”

Joe gives him a pained look, but nods in acquiescence. “Several months ago, it would have been before you were back in the city, some of my more unusual advisors ...”

_Spies_ , Nicky translates in his head with a snort.

“... began to hear whispers that Merrick was getting a little too big for his britches.” Joe flashes a faint smile, seeming amused. “He’s never liked me, you see. I have the audacity to be someone who puts the interests of the land as a whole first, rather than just my wealthier subjects, and that both baffles and infuriates him by turns.”

“I thought it would never go any further than that,” Joe admits. “He’s such a little coward I never suspected he’d have the nerve to do more than complain louder than anybody else. Apparently, I underestimated him.”

“He’s been building support among a few of the more irascible courtiers, playing on the discontent of the more money hungry types, and it seems his plan is to eventually remove me outright.”

“How?” Nicky asks with a frown. “Even if he killed you,” and here Nicky will admit that even saying the words results in an unpleasant twist in his gut, no matter how annoyed he currently is, “there’s no guarantee that would result in him taking power. You have heirs.”

“I do,” Joe acknowledges. “Two brothers and a sister. All of whom I have been very pointedly keeping away from this place while I sort this mess out. However, that doesn’t mean my side would be successful in the end.”

“Merrick’s been hiring mercenaries,” he explains. “Indeed, it sounds like that’s where Keane comes in. I assume you’re aware he’s ex-military.”

Thinking of the multiple conversations he’s been subjected to where a Keane bragged about his military prowess, Nicky rolls his eyes. “He might have mentioned it once or twice.”

Joe huffs out a faint laugh, but continues on. “Yes, well, he’s been putting those connections to good use. Between Merrick’s estate, Keane’s, and Meta Kozak’s, there’s a whole swath of mercenaries hunkering down and waiting to strike.”

He makes a face then, one Nicky thinks might be exasperation. “I honestly don’t know if they still think they’re being subtle at this point, or if they’re so full of themselves they’ve stopped caring. I believe either option is equally viable.”

“Joe,” Nicky sighs when he trails off again, looking pensive. “You’re right that it could be either way, but none of this explains why I’m here.” He levels the other man with a look. “You promised.”

“Yes, yes, I did. I know.” Palming the back of his neck with one hand, Joe glances away. “The thing is, you see. My own forces and Merrick’s are probably about evenly matched. That means who would win would be a coin toss, and I shudder to think how many innocent people might get hurt in the process. Whether I survive or not is one thing, but I won’t have the blood of others on my conscience.”

“After learning what was going on, I reached out to some old friends for help. You’ve met them, actually. Quynh and Andy?” He pauses, waiting for Nicky to nod in acknowledgment, and then continues. “I trust them both with my life, and they know everything that’s going on. They’ve been staying here, under the guise of a visit between nations, with enough of their own retinue to create a distinct advantage in a fight.”

“The problem, of course,” he says when Nicky opens his mouth to again demand to know what all this has to do with him, “is that visiting dignitaries can’t stay forever. They have to return home eventually, and when they do, there goes my advantage.”

“Merrick knows this,” he adds flatly. “We’re locked in a waiting game, and he’s determined not to flinch first.”

Nicky considers this. “If you’re so sure that’s what he’s doing,” he asks slowly, “why haven’t you just arrested him for treason and been done with it?”

“He’s covered his tracks very well,” Joe replies. “My people on the inside, two of them in particular, are absolutely certain of what he’s doing. One of those men I’ve trusted with my life more than a dozen times over, but even he hasn’t been able to get close enough to land me the kind of concrete proof I could use. I either need Merrick to move first, or I need one of his cronies to break ranks.”

“And that,” Joe says firmly, “is where you come in.”

“Me,” Nicky says. “How?”

Joe squirms in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that Keane is somewhat possessive of things he considers to be his? And that he’s got a less than stellar temper?”

“Ignoring the fact that you’ve just referred to me as a ‘thing’,” Nicky says dryly. “Yes, I’ve noticed.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Joe’s quick to assure him. “Obviously, you’re a person not a thing, but Keane doesn’t see it that way, and he’s been bragging about landing you since the engagement was announced.”

“Truly, I hadn’t noticed,” Nicky deadpans.

Joe chuckles. “Sarcasm doesn’t become you, dear one, even though I suppose it’s well deserved in this instance. Did you know Merrick doesn’t approve of your match?”

“I don’t approve of our match,” Nicky retorts, “but to answer your question, no, I didn’t. Are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” Joe replies. “Apparently you’ve had the audacity to say nice things about me once or twice, and Merrick feels this means you can’t be trusted. Keane in turn is of the opinion that you exist only to warm his bed, and therefore what you think doesn’t matter, the absolutely vile man.”

“You’ll hear no argument from me on that last point,” Nicky informs him. “So, I’m a wedge between them, is that it?”

“Yes, exactly,” Joe says, sounding pleased that he’s following. “Rumour has it Merrick gave Keane direct orders to break off the engagement a week ago, but Keane refused. It would appear he’s not willing to give you up.”

“And if I thought for even a moment he was doing it out of love, I might even be flattered,” Nicky decides. “Unfortunately, we both know that’s not the case.”

“No.” Joe’s eyes narrow in obvious distaste. “No, I’m afraid you’re just a prize as far as he’s concerned. Which is why I’ve had a few little birds putting ideas in his head that he might have a challenger where you’re concerned. I’m told it has him quite annoyed with me.”

“He hates you, if that’s what you mean,” Nicky says. “I don’t think that’s anything new though.”

“Probably not,” Joe shrugs, “but the more riled up he gets, the more likely he is to reach a breaking point and come after me with or without Merrick’s approval.”

Nicky’s eyes widen as understanding dawns. “You took me in the hopes it would make Keane angry enough to launch against you now, while the outside forces are still here.”

“Yes,” Joe admits, but unlike the first time he’d acknowledged Nicky being right about something, this time his eyes are downcast. “I - it’s important to me that you know I’d never have done so if we’d been able to come up with a better way.”

He looks up to meet Nicky’s gaze then, and now his eyes are bright. “It is also important to me,” he says very seriously, “that you know my intentions are pure. I would very much like to get to know you better, Nicolo, but never at the expense of your own comfort.”

“Huh,” Nicky says eloquently, and for some reason that makes Joe laugh.

“Huh, indeed,” he agrees, chuckling a little more before sobering. “I have no idea if this plan is going to work, for the record. Now that you know the truth, we should discuss what you want to do if Keane doesn’t snap.”

“What’s there to discuss?” Nicky asks. Joe raises a questioning eyebrow at him and he shrugs. “My husband’s a traitor, I’m not. I’m not going back to him under those circumstances.”

“I see,” Joe says, his expression brightening somewhat. “Well, I meant what I said about not having any of this come down on you, and I’m a man of my word. Now, though, it appears we have some time to kill while we wait.”

His grin turning sly, Joe cocks his head to one side. “Might I offer you a drink?”

*****

In the end, Nicky accepts the glass of wine Joe presents him with, and the two of them pass a couple of hours chatting companionably in the seats they’ve been occupying. Even knowing what’s expected to happen it’s nice, comfortable even.

Joe for his part appears remarkably calm for a man who’s openly trying to engineer a coup against himself, and he smiles at Nicky in a way that makes his insides twist. If they both escape this mess unscathed, it’s clear they’re going to have a lot to discuss.

The shouting starts just as Joe is picking up the bottle of wine to refill Nicky’s glass, causing him to frown and look put out. “I guess this is going to have to wait,” he says, disappointed.

Even though he can hear the noise just as well, Nicky huffs out a laugh at his expression. “Surely, my company isn’t that good,” he teases.

Joe eyes him seriously. “Your company is easily the most enticing I’ve ever had,” he says, voice firm. “Provided I’m not killed or maimed or I suppose possibly incarcerated by the end of the night, I intend to request more of it. On a purely voluntary basis, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” Nicky says faintly, feeling a sudden urge to fan himself. “Are you always this incorrigible?”

Joe winks at him. “Only for you, dear one.”

Any response Nicky might have made, and at this point who knows what that might have been, is interrupted by the door bursting open and a large body rushing inside.

Even though he’s holding a sword for once instead of a bottle, Nicky has no trouble recognizing Sebastien le Livre. Well aware whose side the man is likely to be on, Nicky shoves out of his seat, fully intending to put himself between Joe and harms way.

Except, apparently Joe doesn’t need his help.

“Booker!” He says, and then immediately starts laughing for some reason. “I think that’s the fastest you’ve ever gotten up here. Did you time yourself to check?”

Le Livre shoots him a dirty look, and after a moment Nicky realizes he’s panting slightly. “Took the back passages,” he grunts, gesturing irritably with his sword. “Figured I should probably do my job and make sure you weren’t getting your fool head cut off by Keane right about now.”

Joe spreads his arms, inviting the other man to take a look. “As you can see, I remain unscathed. What’s the situation?”

Le Livre straightens to his full height, and not for the first time Nicky notices just how big he is. It wasn’t as obvious before thanks to his habit of curling in on himself whenever they’d met previously, but the fact remains that he’s not someone you’d want to meet alone in a dark alley.

“Exactly as James and I predicted,” he says crisply, not a single hint of slurring in his voice. “Keane waited for the guests to leave his home, and then promptly rounded up all the goons he had on site to, and I quote, ‘take back what’s his’.”

“I wasn’t aware Keane spoke about himself in the third person,” Joe says mildly, and Le Livre makes a face like he’s thinking of stabbing him on principle.

“I’m not above punching you, Yusuf,” he declares, and Nicky glances back and forth between them.

“What,” he says, feeling the early stages of a headache coming on, “is happening right now?”

“Hmm, oh!” Apparently remembering there’s someone else in the room, Joe grins. “Nicolo, Booker. Booker, Nicolo. Booker’s an old friend from way back, and he’s been helping me with my ongoing ... issues.”

“I see,” Nicky says, starting to put the pieces together. “He’s one of your spies then.”

“When he wants to be.” Joe shrugs. “He’s a forger by trade, with a whole host of other skills that came in handy during this mess. That combined with him being just naturally disreputable made him the perfect choice for this assignment.”

“I am standing right here,” Le Livre points out.

“And you’re doing an excellent job of it,” Joe confirms. “Now give me that sword. You don’t even like them. He’s much more of a bar room brawler,” he adds for Nicky’s benefit.

“I see,” Nicky repeats for lack of anything better.

“You probably don’t,” Le Livre says in the long suffering tones of a man who simply has too much on his plate to deal with. “And no, with all due respect, my Lord,” Le Livre’s tone indicates the exact amount may be minimal, “it’s my job to protect you and your job to stay put and be protected. Someone will come find you when it’s safe.”

“Booker,” Joe starts to protest, but he’s not fast enough. Le Livre ducks out of the room as quickly as he’d arrived, once again leaving Joe and Nicky alone in each other’s company.

“And here I thought he was nothing but a drunk,” Nicky says to the firmly shut door.

“It depends on the day,” Joe retorts. “Now come on, he’ll pitch a fit if we try to leave, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t prepare for the worst. There are other weapons in the bedroom.”

“Of course there are,” Nicky sighs. He’s fast approaching the point where nothing’s going to be able to surprise him further.

His attention focused elsewhere, Joe doesn’t reply. Instead, he opens the door Nicky had noticed earlier, leading him into a well-furnished room, dominated by a large four poster bed at its centre. Even in the midst of all the distraction, Nicky can’t help but notice that it looks extremely comfortable.

That train of thought is soon cut off, however, when Joe flips open the lid of a nearby trunk and withdraws a wickedly curved scimitar with a satisfied noise. He handles it deftly, his grip sure as he slides it from the scabbard. 

“I take it you know how to use that,” Nicky says dryly, and Joe grins at him from over the edge of the blade.

“Of course,” he says firmly. “I’m more than just a pretty face.”

“So you keep telling me,” Nicky replies. “Is there anything in there I can use?”

He thinks Joe might hesitate for a split second, but in the end he steps back, gesturing Nicky forward at the same time. “Please, take a look.”

Nicky does, and he lets out a satisfied noise of his own when he spots a broadsword that’s almost a mirror image to the kind he’d trained with in his youth. Reaching down, he tugs it free and promptly begins testing the weight to see if it will work for him.

When he turns around, Joe is watching him with raised eyebrows.

“I thought,” he says slowly, “that you were going to enter the seminary?”

Nicky snorts and gives the blade a few experimental swishes, pleased when it becomes clear he hasn’t lost much muscle memory in the past three months. “The seminary was a last resort to avoid whatever political marriage had to inevitably be coming for me,” he says. “Before that I tried something a little more ... direct. I can handle my own in a fight.”

Joe cocks his head to the side, his brow furrowing. “Every time I think I’ve got you figured out -“ he starts, and that’s when the sound of the outer doors slamming open again reaches them. “Shit! I doubt that’s Booker back to tell us this is already settled.”

“No,” Nicky agrees. A quick glance around the room tells him there are no other exits unless they feel like jumping from one of the very high windows. “How do you want to handle this?”

“Together,” Joe declares. “And also head on.”

He drops into a fighting stance, and Nicky, feeling a bizarre sense of déjà vu, takes the spot next to him. They fit almost seamlessly together, both of them already moving as one when the first mercenary charges through the door.

Things become a blur after that. Joe cuts down the initial man, but it’s Nicky who gets the second. They fight back to back as more men pour into the room, except eventually there are too many and they get separated.

Finally, it seems that the tide is turning when all of a sudden Keane is there, his eyes blazing and his mouth snarling furiously. He ignores Nicky where he’s dealing with two of his remaining men, and instead heads right for Joe.

Tangled up with his own last attacker, Joe doesn’t see him coming until it’s almost too late. He dodges with enough time to prevent a blow that likely would have shattered his windpipe, but still ends up stumbling backward, gasping as he tries to regain his breath.

Knowing what’s about to happen, Nicky reacts on instinct. Burying his borrowed sword in the gut of his final mercenary, he launches himself across the room at Keane, taking them both down in the process.

Keane swears and shoves a vicious elbow into Nicky’s temple, momentarily stunning him as they grapple on the floor. “You little bastard!” He yells, grabbing a fistful of Nicky’s hair and using his grip to slam his head against the stone beneath him. “I’m going to slit your fucking throat.”

Too dazed to do much of anything, Nicky chokes out a pained grunt, scrabbling at Keane’s wrist where it’s now pinning his neck while the other man pulls a knife from his belt. His sword is somewhere behind him, and he has no other weapons on hand.

Then both Keane and his knife are gone. Still panting heavily, Nicky tries to force himself to move, only to freeze when he hears the sound of a body impacting with the floor, followed by a wet, sickening crunch.

His sides heaving, Nicky’s about to roll himself over onto his side, when all of a sudden Joe is there, his hands splayed out just above Nicky’s chest. “Nicolo! Nicolo, look at me!”

“M’fine,” Nicky rasps, his voice coming out in a ragged mess as Joe visibly sags in relief. “Keane?”

“Dead, very dead.” Joe assures him. “I’m sorry, dear one, I’m afraid you’ve been wed and widowed all in one night.”

“I should probably be more upset about that than I am,” Nicky murmurs, sighing happily when Joe finally gets over himself enough to touch him. His head still ringing, he allows himself to be gently helped into a sitting position. “I feel like I might be sick.”

“You have a nasty bump there,” Joe admits. He probably carefully at the back of Nicky’s skull, frowning when the tips of his fingers come away bloody. “That animal,” he says. “I killed him too quickly.”

Able to see Keane from his new vantage point, Nicky considers the odd angle the man’s neck has acquired. “I think you did just fine,” he decides. “Help me up?”

“You need a doctor,” Joe protests. “I’m sure Celeste has her hands full, but I refuse to see you go untreated. Keane’s dead, which means this fight will be over soon enough and I can have someone brought in to look at you.”

“I’m sure there are many worse off than me,” Nicky says. “I can wait.”

Joe makes another distressed noise, but he must see something in Nicky’s face because he does start helping him to his feet. “Please be careful, at least. I’d hate to see you fall.”

“I don’t think that’s going to happen,” Nicky says, noting the way Joe has unconsciously looped an arm around his waist and is holding him steady. “I really don’t.”

He allows Joe to lead him back into the sitting room, which has been thoroughly trashed by Keane and his mean. Nicky settles into the only chair that’s still upright, sinking into it gratefully as Joe nudges the shattered remains of the wine bottle with one booted foot.

“That’s going to be hell to get out of this rug,” Joe mutters. “Glass shards and red wine, I should probably just toss the whole thing.”

“Perhaps,” Nicky says, not really caring. His head hurts and his eyelids feel heavy, like he can’t keep his eyes open. “You could - hmm, I don’t know.”

“Nicolo?” Joe’s tone is sharp, concerned, and he drops down on one knee in front of Nicky, heedless of the glass scattered all over the floor. “Nicolo, look at me.”

Nicky raises a hand almost lazily to trail his fingers along the side of Joe’s face. “You should be careful,” he says, words slurring. “There’s glass. Don’t want you to cut yourself.”

“Nicolo!” Joe yelps, and it’s the last thing Nicky hears before everything goes dark.

*****

Nicky wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, and with Joe’s personal physician far too close for comfort.

“Oh relax,” Celeste drawls, sounding unimpressed when he jerks back, startled, “I’m not the one here who’s liable to bite you.”

“Celeste!” A scandalized voice snaps, and when Nicky carefully (oh so carefully) turns his head in that direction, he finds Joe seated in an armchair, still wearing the same clothes from the fight and looking like he hasn’t slept in days.

“You can’t just say things like that,” he admonishes. “Especially not to a man with a head injury.”

“I fail to see why not,” is the reply, and then Celeste is all business again, leaning down to examine Nicky in her particularly brusque way.

Once she’s done and has made her exit, Nicky sits up slowly. There are a number of pillows stacked around him, and he waves off Joe’s offer to help as he arranges them to his satisfaction. Only when that’s done does he speak.

“Am I in your bed?”

Joe shrugs, unashamed. “The infirmary was quite packed and it seemed more efficient. Besides, I had the bodies taken away first.”

A quick glance at the floor confirms that Keane and his men are indeed gone. “I see. I take it you won then.”

Joe shrugs. “In my eyes it’s more that we won, but yes. Keane was able to bring not only his men, but also Kozak’s by lying to her and saying Merrick had told him to launch the attack. She was captured not long after he died and was all too happy to sell Merrick out to try and save her own skin. They’re both in custody now.”

“That’s good,” Nicky says. “Casualties?”

At this Joe makes a pained face. “More than I had hoped, but less than I had any right to expect. It was as contained a battle as it could be given the circumstances.”

“Did your friends make out alright? Lady Quynh and her wife? What about Le Livre?”

Now Joe grins. “Quynh and Andy are more than alright. Truly, I think they quite enjoyed themselves. Booker took a nasty gash to the leg, but I’m told it will heal fine and James is sufficiently fussing over him already.”

“James Copley?” Nicky guesses, pleased when Joe nods in confirmation. “He’s the other spy you mentioned having in Merrick’s ranks. I always thought he found the group somewhat distasteful.”

“Somewhat, is an understatement, I believe.”

“Hmm.” Nicky tilts his head. “He and Le Livre, they’re ...?”

“I assure you, I do not want to know,” Joe says quickly, looking mildly perturbed. “They’re grown men and can sort themselves out however they choose.”

“No doubt,” Nicky says faintly. He fidgets idly with part of the pattern on the intricately woven duvet covering his legs. “Speaking of people sorting themselves out ... What happens now?”

“Now?” Joe echoes. “Now I set about getting my house in order, however long that might take, while you focus on recuperating. Either here or at home, or wherever else you might choose to do so. Technically, I believe you’ve inherited Keane’s entire estate since he had no other family.”

“Oh,” Nicky says faintly, the ramifications of that statement very nearly overwhelming him. “That hadn’t occurred to me.”

“Mhm,” Joe shrugs. “The only other option would be confiscating it on the grounds of treason, but I know full well you weren’t involved in the plot and I’m not about to punish the innocent for the crimes of others. The whole thing is yours to do with as you wish.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Nicky tries, but Joe fervently shakes his head.

“It’s not,” he says flatly. “It’s actually incredibly selfish on my part. You see,” he continues when Nicky stares at him in honest confusion, “I very firmly recall you telling me your marriage to Keane was to help prevent your family coming to financial ruin. With his money you can do whatever you want with, more importantly, _whoever_ you want. If that were the sort of thing you were interested in. Which I’m not saying it is. Or has to be. Just that if it is, well, you know.”

It’s the most convoluted and least eloquent speech Joe’s ever given in Nicky’s presence and he’s doing it all while Nicky has a head injury. That’s simply unfair.

“Joe,” he says, pained. “Please speak plainly. What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying I want to court you,” Joe replies. “Properly, like you deserve, but only if you want that too.”

It’s a struggle for Nicky not to scoff in his face, but in the end he manages it. “Of course I want that,” he says. “I would have thought that was obvious by now.”

There’s a smile breaking through the dark recesses of Joe’s beard. A wide, brilliant smile. “I will admit, I did think I had reason to hope.”

Wrinkling his nose, Nicky pats the spot next to him on the bed. It’s a massive piece of furniture with more than enough room for them even if his head still feels like it’s only precariously attached to his shoulders. “Come here.”

“If you’re sure,” Joe says, already moving by the time Nicky’s finished nodding. He slides into the spot easily, careful not to jostle anything, and then turns on his side so he can look Nicky in the eye. “I would very much like to kiss you.”

Still moving slowly, Nicky shifts to mirror his position as best he can. “I think,” he says, already moving in as the words leave his mouth, “that I would very much like that too.”

He’s pretty sure he can feel Joe’s smile as their lips meet.

**Author's Note:**

> I started this well over a month ago, but then real life very much got in the way. It was meant to be a prompt fill for this https://theoldguardkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4108.html?thread=1310732#cmt1310732, but I’m afraid I detoured pretty heavily from the original poster’s wishes. My apologies for that. Regardless, I hope folks enjoyed.


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